Chapter 6
“Then I’ll head back now. If you need anything, ask the dormitory staff on the first floor.”
“Yes!”
At her energetic reply, Melody nodded with satisfaction.
“Then unpack your things and get some good rest.”
“Yes! Thank you so much for today.”
When Ibi bowed deeply in gratitude, Melody chuckled as if finding her cute, waved her hand, and closed the door.
Left alone in the now-quiet Room 305, Ibi looked around the space once more.
Perhaps it was because this was usually used by children of noble families.
Even though it was one dorm room, the two rooms were completely independent spaces.
The only shared area was the entrance.
Each room had its own bathroom and shower, so if they timed their outings right, it seemed possible to live there without running into the person across the hall.
Returning to her room, Ibi opened the bag Melody had left and began taking out its contents.
Uniform, notebooks, pens, ink…
As if by magic, the bag seemed to produce an endless stream of essentials for daily life.
Ibi carefully took each item out like handling a treasure and placed them on the desk.
New books, new notebooks, new pens…
Things she had never had the chance to enjoy in her life were now suddenly piled before her. She couldn’t suppress her joy.
The first thing Ibi did was pick up a pen and write her name on the inside cover of one of the books Melody had given her.
Then she began organizing the items one by one.
She placed them here and there, moving them around until each item slowly found its place.
“This must be the last one.”
When she opened the final bag, she found the gifted academy’s uniform.
Not just the uniform, but also socks, shoes, and even ribbons.
Since today was the first day, everyone had come dressed from home, but from now on, they were required to wear the academy uniform.
It was likely to clearly distinguish students of the gifted academy.
Ibi thought for a moment about trying it on right away but instead gently laid the clothes down and continued running her hands over them.
The fabric was clean and soft.
Inside the uniform, her name, “Ibi,” had been embroidered on the spot.
After a long while of touching her new clothes, Ibi came to her senses and continued unpacking.
There was still time before dinner.
She sat at the desk and opened one of the books Melody had given her.
She figured it would be good to read more about the rules of the academy while she had the chance.
Then her eyes stopped on something.
“Huh? Guardian?”
* * *
Clois stared out the window.
The sky, which had been clear all day, was now bathed in the orange hues of sunset.
Even though it was a beautiful sky that could captivate anyone, his face was filled with irritation.
The inner palace where he stayed was quite far from the gifted academy, so no sounds of children reached him.
Even so, he knew today was the day the academy welcomed new students.
It was the subtle glances filled with hope he had been receiving since morning that told him.
‘I suppose it’s time to decide.’
He had loudly said he wouldn’t adopt a child from this batch of students, but Clois knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
As the emperor, he could not ignore the matter of succession.
If he continued to delay the decision, the empire would eventually fall into chaos again.
He had already experienced a horrifying war for the throne.
Such senseless turmoil must never happen again.
Clois recalled the names of the children being whispered about among the officials.
Among them, the ones that came to mind first were Arcel and Ruska.
Children of the Duke of Kaelan and the Marquis of Ragselv—families that had supported him.
He had watched them grow up, so Clois knew well of their capabilities.
People regarded Arcel more highly, but Clois thought Ruska was just as fine.
If Arcel became emperor, he would be a ruler everyone obeyed and revered.
If Ruska became emperor, he would be one who got along more with officials and ruled by understanding people’s hearts.
Both had sufficient potential.
Moreover, their families had long supported the imperial line, with royal blood flowing through them for generations—qualifications were not an issue.
All that remained was his decision.
And yet…
“Sigh…”
A long sigh escaped before he could stop it.
Lately, Clois found himself constantly indulging in vain fantasies.
Fantasies that his wife and daughter were still alive.
‘Lilian.’
The forest fairy-like woman he had met while inspecting a provincial estate away from the bleak imperial palace.
She was the daughter of a baron governing a small estate, but that had never mattered to Clois.
He had left the palace, where no love existed between parent and child or siblings, to be with Lilian.
He had no interest in the throne anyway.
He simply wanted to live happily with the woman he loved.
But the world cruelly crushed that wish.
He had gone to war to protect his wife and unborn child, but when he returned, what greeted him were their mangled corpses.
The daughter he had never even seen, born in his absence, lay rotting beside her mother.
The lone surviving retainer had tearfully told him that Lilian had given birth to a girl, and they had named her Ibbvien.
Clois spent a full day crying as he held the dismembered bodies of the ones he loved.
And when he buried them, he buried his heart with them.
He thought the pain would lessen with time, but that was a grave mistake.
At some point, he began seeing visions.
When he turned at the sound of soft laughter in the breeze, he would see Lilian standing there.
And next to her, a small girl clutching her mother’s skirt.
“Ibbvien.”
He spoke his daughter’s name with sorrow.
While Lilian’s face was clear as day, the child’s face was always hazy like a fog.
It was natural—he had never seen her—but it pained him deeply.
I’m your father, yet I don’t even know your face.
He had hoped the visions would fade with time.
But contrary to his hopes, they became more frequent.
With each passing year, the Ibbvien in his visions grew older, as if she were really alive.
Clois confided in the imperial physician about these hallucinations.
The physician responded gravely, saying Clois was suffering from severe depression.
He advised that medication could alleviate the symptoms and stop the visions.
But Clois refused.
He had no joys left in life.
The visions were his only remaining comfort.
‘If Ibbvien were alive, would she have entered the gifted academy?’
If alive, she would be seven this year.
She might not have been especially intelligent.
But in his visions, Ibbvien was always a clever child.
Just then, a knock on the door came with the voice of the Prime Minister asking if he could enter.
“Come in.”
The Prime Minister entered shortly after.
As usual, he placed documents requiring the emperor’s signature on Clois’s desk.
Normally, he would bow and leave immediately, but not today.
“Is there something you wish to say?”
Clois noticed his hesitation and asked.
The Prime Minister bowed apologetically.
“I wished to confirm a matter regarding guardianship, Your Majesty.”
“Guardianship?”
“Yes. Regarding the guardian for Ibi Elden…”
“Ibi Elden?”
It was a name he’d never heard before.
Clois repeated it quietly. Ibi Elden. Ibi… Ibi…
Why did it roll off the tongue so easily, even though it was unfamiliar?
As if he had just been saying it a moment ago.
Then he remembered the word “guardian” and realized who the name might belong to.
“Is that the child I selected during the meeting?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And what about a guardian?”
“All children entering the gifted academy must have a guardian.”
“I told you to handle those matters.”
“Yes, I remember. That’s why I tried to decide on a suitable guardian, but…”
“What? Is there no one fit?”
“On the contrary. The problem is that too many are eager to take on the role.”
The Prime Minister recalled what had happened earlier.
Every student at the academy must have a guardian.
Ibi Elden was no exception.
He tried to find someone appropriate—but unlike expected, too many people insisted on being her guardian.
The problem was that none of their intentions seemed entirely pure.
